K'oh-nar
by pathopoeia
Summary: A vulcan word, describing the unnatural fear of losing control in an extremely intense, emotional situation. When Jim and Spock are stranded on a dangerous planet with no escape, every day is a fight for survival. But for Jim, the hardest part was telling Spock to leave him behind. Spirk pairing. Angst/gore/fluff/smut and a happy ending.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

I know I should be updating my other fic but I had Spirk feels, so here you go.

I don't own Star Trek, it just snuck up on me and took over my life.

* * *

It was well into the second year of their five year mission that something decided to go completely, as Scotty had put it 'tits up'. Jim would look back and mention that it was a testament to their skills as a good crew that it had taken that long for something to go so wrong. However, at the time Jim was rather less pleased about the situation.

It started as a relatively straight forward mission, a party made up of science officers and security going down to the surface of what was currently an unclassified planet to collect information on the plants, atmosphere and if possible the inhabitants of the area. They had gone down in two shuttles as there was constant interference to their transport and communications because of the strange, milky thick fog that hung over the planet's surface. Spock scanned it, but there were no harmful readings. The teams removed their helmets and began spreading out with scanners, taking samples.

Jim moved to stand next to Spock.

"This fog is _weird_," he said, looking down at his ankles which were submerged in it. "Can we take samples?"

Spock nodded.

"I believe we can, but whether we can successfully study those samples in the science laboratory of the _Enterprise_ is questionable. It may require more sophisticated equipment than that which we have on board."

Jim ran a hand through his hair, shifting uncomfortably in the environmental suit he wore. Spock too found the suit to be rather constricting, but refused to show any discomfort.

"Right. Take a few samples then, we can try it on the _Enterprise_ and then if it doesn't work, take it to a lab. I want to know why it's fucking with our equipment."

Spock's lips thinned fractionally. The Captain was an exuberant man physically and his words commanded just as much strength. Spock personally found his constant use of bad language to be rather distasteful, but said nothing. They had become friends in a way after the events of Khan, but there was a strange chasm of silence between them and Spock did not have the slightest idea as to how to go about bridging that gap - and whether it would even be wise to. Jim Kirk was an enigma to most, and while they were friends, Spock did not count himself as an exception to this rule. Jim Kirk's files were sealed, and classified, and Spock found that he followed his human intuition in that maybe what was in those files were not for anyone's eyes but Jim's.

Jim was watching the teams with tension held in his shoulders, blue eyes flicking around the area and then to the scanner he held.

"I'm get some weird readings- shit. Lifeforms, heading straight for us."

Jim put his fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly.

"Everyone take the samples and get back on the shuttles. We've managed to keep to the prime directive so far, let's not break our streak."

Jim's hand jumped towards his communicator instinctively and then dropped back down. They had no communications with the _Enterprise. _

Strange, guttural shouts rustled through the trees, muffled by the fog. The shuttle coughed, shuddered and finally started up. The pilot waved at Jim and Spock insistently.

"No, we'll take the other shuttle. We might be able to observe the locals without being seen."

The shuttle hummed and shot into the sky. Jim grasped Spock's arm and they melted back into the trees, using the thickening fog to hide themselves in. Jim pulled on his helmet so he could speak to Spock through the comms and not be heard out loud. Spock followed suit.

"I am pleased you acted accordingly to adhere to the prime directive."

Jim chuckled.

"Hey, I'm just glad you didn't jump into a volcano so I had to break it to save your life - oh wait, didn't that happen one time?"

Spock rose an eyebrow, his eyes scanning the clearing that they had vacated.

"Captain, it will take the shuttle approximately three days to return to the _Enterprise_ as they have to fight against the interference to fly."

"Yup."

"I am advising caution in observing the aliens, Captain."

Jim nodded. He wasn't overly worried, they had hidden their other shuttle a few miles away and he wasn't planning on staying on the planet for any longer than he had to. The fog was creeping him out, no matter how many times Spock said that it was safe.

The aliens reached the clearing, and Jim shrunk back automatically. They were humanoid, but reptilian with bronze scales coating their bodies and thick tails dragging on the floor. They held primitive weaponry, bows, axes and swords. Jim knew that Spock was cataloguing all these things in that huge brain of his. The biggest of the aliens, presumably the leader, licked his eyes with a long tongue and barked out something else in their language. Jim recorded the sounds through his helmet to turn over to Uhura when they got back.

The leader's small eyes ran over the trees in which they were hidden. Jim swallowed.

"I think we should maybe, very slowly try and get back to the shuttle."

"I concur, Captain."

"I do have a name, you know."

"I am perfectly aware of your name, Captain."

Jim ground his teeth and dropped to his haunches, shuffling awkwardly deeper into the trees. Spock followed him, his movements more graceful. Jim couldn't help wondering whether staying behind had actually been a really stupid idea. On instinct he looked back, and saw one of the aliens holding a drawn bow, the string trembling and tight. Jim crashed into Spock, sending them both falling flat to the floor. An arrow thunked into a tree in front of them, oozing a pale green liquid.

"Fascinating," Spock said, "They appear to have evolved sufficiently to use the poisonous resources at their disposal to improve their weaponry."

Jim rolled his eyes.

"Fucking _fascinating_, Spock. Do you think we could make a run for it to the shuttle, or are you going to wait and see what the affects of their poisons are on you, or me?"

"Apologies, Captain. I believe heading for the shuttle is the best course of action."

Jim poked his head out of the fog and then jerked Spock to his feet.

"Run."

Giving up all semblance of stealth, Jim crashed through the trees, Spock right behind him. He knew that Spock could run faster than he, but out of some misguided attempt to follow the chain of command, was dutifully keeping pace behind his superior officer. Jim wondered if all vulcans were this weird or if Spock was just extra special 'cos he was also half human.

Jim decided these thoughts could wait until later, as a dart narrowly missed his leg and embedding itself into the fog covered ground. The fog was making it hard to keep up any real speed, as Jim kept tripping over tree roots and rocks and he was sure that Spock had nearly crashed into the back of him more than once.

A bizarre, aching sound of a horn being blown thundered through the air.

"Fuck...don't...want...more aliens...hunting us." Jim huffed out, ducking under a branch and scrambling to keep himself upright as he nearly toppled over a fallen tree.

"I think-" Spock took in a controlled breath, "that was-" another breath, "a signal that indicated our presence."

"No shit." Jim panted.

They were not far from the shuttle when Spock reached out and grabbed Jim round his neck, choking him to a stop and crashing his back against Spock's chest. Then he saw what Spock saw.

The shuttle was...on fire. A bit. A _lot_. Surrounded by chanting aliens, the metal of the shuttle was bending and buckling in ways that it shouldn't have.

"Goddamnshit_fuck_bollocksasshole." Jim muttered. Spock could not help privately agreeing with Jim's accurate, if rather not very eloquently phrased statement. They stayed in the trees, unmoving. Both trying to figure out what to do.

"I think we should attempt to get out of the immediate vicinity of the hostile aliens." Spock offered. Jim nodded.

"Yup. Chekov mentioned that the fog was thinner on higher ground. We should head up, see if we can get some sort of signal to the _Enterprise_."

The pair slunk away from their burning shuttle and towards the gently sloping paths that promised a way to higher ground. Hopefully.

Jim was thankful for the bags on their backs that held water and rations in case of emergencies, and though his mouth was try he dared not drink anything. It would be at least three days until they realised there was anything wrong, and even then they might not realise because Jim had said they were going to observe the aliens before coming back. He was an _idiot_.

Jim shook his head to try and dislodge his confused thoughts. There was a heavy ache pressing against his skull and he pressed one hand to his helmeted head.

"Captain, are you alright?"

Jim glanced over his shoulder. Spock seemed to be finding Jim's steady place too slow, but Jim couldn't walk any faster. He felt odd, light headed and as he found this he stumbled, almost cracking his head open on a rock. Spock caught him before he could feel, looping his arms under Jim's waist and holding him upright.

"Captain?"

"I don't know...I feel-" Jim had just enough time to remove his helmet and throw up violently into the undergrowth. He came up with his face pale and his body was shaking.

Spock began feeling insistently at Jim's suit (surely there was some regulation about having his First Officer feeling him up?) and jerked out a small dart from the base of Jim's spine. There was worry in his dark eyes, and Jim looked at the floor.

"I do not know of this poison." Spock said, examining the liquid carefully, and scanning it, "it is not made of any known plants on record."

Jim threw up again.

"Peachy."

He took the water offered by Spock and rinsed out his mouth, spitting it out onto the floor and then looking at the spit with a small amount of fear.

It was dark with blood.

Spock's voice was low. "I believe the poison has caused something in your body to...to have hemorrhaged."

"Yay for internal bleeding." Jim muttered. Then he was sick again, narrowly missing his own boots. It was dark with fresh blood, and Spock's brow wrinkled.

"We should keep moving, Captain." His voice was calm, betraying nothing of the fear that had lodged itself in his stomach. Jim looked awful, and he felt guilty that he had not noticed the way his feet had begun to drag in the dirt, the way his breathing had become heavier, taking effort.

Jim rolled his eyes at the use of his rank but let Spock support him as they walked slowly. Too slowly. The warmth of Spock's arm against his back gave him strength as they carried on, the fog now thick up to his waist.

By the time that night fell, the only thing keeping Jim upright was Spock's strong arm around his waist, practically dragging him along. But even Spock could not hold Jim's weight forever, and he insisted that they made camp.

"I believe we are well out of the way of the native species. It should be safe for you to remove your suit so I can examine your injury,"

Jim released the seals of his suit with a sigh, and allowed Spock to help him peel it off to reveal the tight black under-layer. Spock pulled up the back of the shirt, urging Jim to lie on his front. The dirt smelt sweet under his nose.

Spock's hands were warm and soft against the trembling skin of his back.

"If you do not mind, I would like to use surface touch telepathy to examine you more thoroughly. It will also help me to avoid hurting you."

Jim nodded. Spock's hands ghosted over the base of his spine, and any time Jim's muscles tensed the touch receded, became more gentle. After a while, Spock helped him back into his suit and pulled out a medical bag from the rucksack on his back.

"I don't know whether this will help," he said, and jabbed Jim in the neck with a hypospray, "But it may alleviate the symptoms."

Jim propped himself up against a tree and munched tiredly on a ration bar. His head felt awful.

"I'm still dying though, right?"

Spock's nod was strained. Jim sighed and closed his eyes, allowing Spock to scan with with the tricorder.

"You...you have bleeding in your brain, Captain."

Jim swallowed.

"How long?"

Spock slumped against a tree trunk himself, and placed the tricorder on the floor. He looked into Jim's blue eyes, dulled from the pain and allowed himself to feel the tremor of emotion that threatened to engulf him.

"I do not know."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Have some more angst guys 3

* * *

It took Jim a long time to sleep. He hated this planet. He hated the fact that when they sat down they were smothered in the fog, he hated the way the trees pressed up into a dark green canopy so he couldn't look at the stars. He hated the sweet smelling dirt and the fact that when he fell asleep he might not wake up again.

Spock watched all of this crossing Jim's face, and stayed silent. He could offer the Captain no comfort, because there was the possibility that he was right. Spock had no idea how potent the poison was, how long it took to kill.

Spock kept watch as Jim's eyes slowly closed, his chin dropping onto his chest. His skin was pale and there were light beads of sweat on his brow.

Three hours later, he had a seizure.

Jim jerked from sleep, opened his mouth but before he could speak his eyes rolled back into his head, limbs flailing uncontrollably. Spock sped to his side, using his strength to hold Jim down. He moved him so Jim's head was in his lap, Spock's long legs pressing down against Jim's ankles and his hands tightly around Jim's wrists. Blood bubbled from the corner of his lips and the spasms finished as abruptly as they had started. Jim's eyes opened, brilliantly blue to stare up at Spock.

Spock let go of Jim's wrists. They were dark and bruised.

"I am sorry, Captain. I had to stop you from injuring yourself-"

"Don't-" Jim waved his hand, "Thank you."

Spock wiped the dribble of blood from Jim's mouth. Wetness touched his fingers, and with a jolt of surprise he realised that Jim was crying. He had never seen Jim cry before.

He had been going to help Jim sit up alone, but instead Spock moved so Jim's head was more comfortably in his lap, hesitantly stroking his golden hair with light touches. Jim closed his eyes at the feeling of Spock's warm hands stroking his scalp, and he eventually fell back to sleep.

The next time he woke up, it was to Spock shoving him off of his lap, reaching for the phaser at his belt and firing at the group of aliens that had snuck up on them during the night. Jim went for his own phaser, dropping two of them with ease despite the blurring at the edges of his vision. Unfortunately his finger froze on the trigger, a ripple of pain bursting through his head and then the feeling of blood dripping from a burning hole in Jim's thigh. He stumbled but fired again, the last alien dropping unconscious to the floor.

He pressed his hands to the wound in his thigh, grunting through gritted teeth at the pain. Spock was at his side in an instant.

"Captain!" his hands pressed over Jim's, pressing harder against the bleeding. Jim tipped his head back and took in sharp, hissing breaths. "I will get some bandages. I am surprised that their weapons are sharp enough to get through our suits."

Jim glanced at him. Spock had a graze across his cheek that was welling up green, but remained mostly unscathed. He sat helplessly while Spock bandaged him up - he did a good job as well as the bandages were only stained a little with red.

"Lucky it missed the artery," Jim groaned as Spock helped him to his feet, "Then I'd be more dead than I already am."

Spock's face spasmed at his words.

"I will not let you die if I can help it."

"But you can't help it," Jim said bitterly, "There is nothing in that bag that will stop me from bleeding from the inside out."

Spock sighed, brown eyes meeting blue.

"No, I can't."

Jim tried to put less weight on Spock, tentatively standing upright. His face screwed up as he put weight on his injured leg.

"I think I can walk. We need to get to high ground. Out of the fog."

He slung his bag over his shoulder and Spock packed up the small out of supplies he had got out the night before. He had slept a little, the sounds of Jim's gentle breathing and steady heartbeat had lulled him to sleep for a few hours, but he had been unable to push the feelings that came with the fact that with every second Jim was edging closer to death and he couldn't do a thing to stop it.

Spock's hands trembled and he took in a breath. He could not lose control of his emotions now, not when they were stranded. Not while Jim was dying.

Spock walked alongside Jim when he could, and fell behind when he could not. Jim's footsteps were unsteady, clumsy and slow and both of them knew that they weren't going fast enough. Despite this, they both stayed silent and plodded on. They stopped only to eat and drink.

After four hours of walking, Jim felt like he was going to pass out. The forest was swimming disconcertingly in front of his eyes and no matter what he did he couldn't get rid of the burning headache. He didn't let a sound of pain escape his lips, even when he scratched himself on a sharp rock, not when he took a wrong step and ended up falling into a pool of greyish water.

Spock reached out to help him, but Jim flinched away from his hand and spat out a mouthful of the water.

"It's not normal water, Spock." he clambered out of the pool slowly and flopped onto the floor, panting.

Spock scanned the pool and tapped his fingers thoughtfully. This planet had so many forms of life and readings that made no sense to him. It would be fascinating, if it wasn't slowly killing his Captain. Jim coughed up another mouthful of the water...or whatever it was and stood up shakily. The bag of supplies was drenched, and they dare not use any of the food now in case it had been contaminated.

They kept walking.

Eventually, Jim broke their continued silence.

"You know, if I'm going to die soon I'd like to talk a bit. Take the edge off, you know."

Spock didn't know. He'd never had to face death as Jim Kirk had. He had seen the pain and the tears and the terror as Jim died in the warp core, but he had also seen the fearlessness that was in his bones when he jumped from Nero's drill in order to save Sulu. He had no idea what it felt like to die as Jim Kirk.

"What would you like to discuss?"

Jim's lips quirked into a smile. "Anything. Tell me about Vulcan."

Spock blinked in shock. He had pushed away thoughts of his home for a long time, locking them away along with the emotions that came with them. He almost refused, but then he saw how Jim's hands shook as he took a drink and he couldn't stay silent.

"It was very beautiful. The temperatures reached hotter peaks than on Earth, and it was mostly a desert planet. But there were many flowers and trees that grew there. I have some small samples in my quarters."

"I'd like to see them."

Spock closed his eyes against the pain welling against his heart.

"My mother..." Spock found to his horror that his voice broke, and he cleared his throat, "My mother was very fond of gardening."

"Do you know how to swim if you lived in a desert?" Jim's voice was teasing.

"I learnt at the Academy."

"Ah, that's nothing. When we...when you're on a planet that has an ocean, go and swim in it. There's nothing quite like it."

Spock could not help but liken the colours of oceans to the colour of Jim's eyes.

"I...I will, Captain."

"Ah shit, Spock. Don't get all sentimental on me, it makes me _sure_ I'm going to pop my clogs."

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"That's better."

"What about you? What was life like in...Iowa?"

Jim's face darkened instantly.

"It was alright. Hot summers, lots of bars."

"Did you spend all of your life in Iowa?"

Jim's voice was barely audible. "No."

"Am I making you uncomfortable, Captain? I didn't-"

"It's fine, Spock. But I...shit. Can we talk about something else?"

"Of course, Captain."

"Thank you, Spock."

Jim staggered then, reaching out for Spock who caught him. He lowered JIm to his knees, where he promptly threw up again. The vomit was almost black with blood now.

"...feel fucking awful." Jim spat, and took a small sip of the water Spock held to his lips. "My leg. It feels..._weird_."

Jim sat back onto his behind, stretching his legs out in front of him. He was still damp from the greyish pool, and it had made the red stain of the bandages pinkish. Spock carefully unwrapped the wound.

"You have a much better beside manner than Bones, you know." Jim said thoughtfully, "You should give him lessons _ow_."

Spock was looking down at Jim's wound with unconcealed horror. Jim leant forwards and then really wish that he hadn't.

The small hole the arrow had made was puffed up, swollen and black lines trailed from the veins surrounding it.

"Is that..." Jim swallowed. "Is that blood poisoning, Spock?"

Spock wouldn't answer. Jim didn't ask again.

"It must have been the water." Spock said very, very quietly. His voice shook. "It has..."

Jim refused the water Spock tried to hand to him.

"No point, Spock." he smiled, but it was a tired smile. "I'll be dead in a day."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three **

I had reviews saying 'update soon'. Ask and ye shall receive!

Thank you for the reviews, they really make my day.

Also there is angst please don't hurt me.

* * *

"Spock."

Spock was staring intently at Jim's face as if he were trying to memorise it, but was ignoring the words coming out of Jim's mouth. He was right, of course the Captain was right but-

"_Spock_."

Spock's eyes snapped up to meet Jim's, and he was momentarily taken aback by the fire that still burned in them despite the fact that he was so close to death.

"Captain."

"Spock, you know I'm right. Be logical." Jim's smile twisted bitterly, "I'm just dead weight, you can move much more quickly without me and then you can get the _Enterprise_, and then come back and get me."

Neither of them mention the fact that it would take too long, that all they would be bringing back of Jim would be his body. Saying it out loud would make it real, and despite the fact that it was illogical Spock was still attempting to deny that Jim Kirk was dying. Again.

"I will not leave you, Captain."

"Spock, if you stay with me...I can't. I can't let you die, not when you don't have to. You can make the supplies last longer if it's just you, and...I'll be fine."

Spock closed his eyes. "You will not be fine."

"Spock, _please_. Leave me here. You can't do anything, not now."

A tremor shuddered through Spock and he did not even try to control the pain threatening to spill over into tears.

"It has been an honour, Capt- _Jim_." he said.

Jim smiled. It was a strained, sad smile but it was genuine.

"I'm going to miss you, Spock. Take care of the _Enterprise_ for me."

"I will come back for you." Spock said fiercely. "I promise I will come back for you, Jim."

Jim smiled and squeezed Spock's hand.

"I know you will."

Spock pressed his forehead to Jim's to say goodbye. They stayed like that for a moment, Jim's hands wrapped tightly around Spock's neck, his fingers brushing skin. It took everything that had Spock to tear himself away. Every footstep away from Jim, slumped against a tree trunk, sent agony through Spock's heart. He didn't dare look back, because if he looked back he would never be able to leave him there.

What hurt the most was that there had been something in Jim's eyes that told him that he was used to seeing people walking away from him.

X

The next night, Jim was still alive. Jim took complete credit for this. He had munched on a ration bar that Spock had insisted he leave and despite the fact that his brain was bleeding internally and his leg was going to drop off, Jim was feeling...ah shit. He felt fucking awful.

Jim hummed under his breath. Spock had left him the phaser, and Jim had considered just shooting himself and being done with the whole thing, but he couldn't give up on the chance that he might, _somehow_ live. That he might see the stars again. That he could see Spock again.

Jim drifted in and out of consciousness, and he thought he could hear singing. It wasn't any language he knew, it sounded sort of like birdsong but more complex, more purposeful. It was nice. He felt as though he were floating, the air soft under his back and warm and gentle. His head hurt less now, and the singing was louder. It thrummed through his bones.

When his thoughts became coherent, it was because he was being strapped down to a stone table by a group of aliens.

Jim struggled, biting the purple fleshy arm that was nearest to him and trying to wrench free. The aliens chattered at him with alarmed tones but Jim couldn't understand him. The ropes were tight against his ankles, his wrists, his chest and when one was tied around his neck to hold his head down, Jim didn't dare struggle for fear of strangling himself.

These were not the reptilian aliens he had seen with Spock. These aliens were tall, slender as willow trees with purple skin and huge, blinking eyes. One of them ripped the bandage from Jim's leg and he cried out in pain. One alien grabbed his chin, holding his head painfully tightly and shoving something down his throat.

Jim nearly choked, and his attempts to jerk upright only made it harder for him to breath against the ties across his neck. One of the creatures pushed him back down gently and pointed at the ceiling, stepping away. His mouth tasted strange now, of cinnamon and of earth and his throat felt hot and strange. He coughed, and blood dripped from his lips. An alien wiped it away with something akin to tenderness and then moved out of sight.

The singing started again. Jim looked at the ceiling, and once he had looked at it it was hard to tear his eyes away. They appeared to be in a dome of some sort, though Jim was sure he hadn't seen anything like this when they had scanned the planet. On the ceiling were beautiful carvings, pictures telling stories that he didn't know and inset with glittering gems. The centre, right above Jim's head was a strange stone that glowed a pale, luminescent green. It seemed to have smoking swirls, under the surface, wispy and moving. Jim blinked.

As he watched it, it turned a brilliant, bright blue. The light inside it expanded, grew, blew out like it was turning into a sun. It was becoming paler and paler blue, burning into a white light that hurt Jim's eyes but somehow he could not look away.

It burnt like the fires of hell when it touched his skin.

He didn't know where he was. It was white, everywhere. Hot and scorching, cleansing him from the inside out. Jim had been born in the fires of a burning ship, and now he was coming undone in a white flame that he couldn't understand.

There was an ache in the back of his mind that the light found, but it couldn't fix it. It swirled anxiously around the edges, but whatever form it took it would not fit that void. It was lonely in there, Jim realised, part of him was empty.

The light settled in his chest and flared out, Jim thrashing as pain streaked down what felt like every nerve in his body. He reached out a hand for Spock.

_Spock, help me._

X

When Jim awoke - which a surprise in itself - he was not in a dome. He was outside, under the unrelenting canopy of trees. He sat up and groaned. He could see where the dome was now, buried under the trees in a swollen lump of landscape. So it had been real.

Jim pressed a hand to his face. He felt better actually. His leg didn't hurt at all and for once his head wasn't throbbing. He reached down to his leg and found...he found nothing. There was a tear in his suit, but underneath there was simply fresh pink scar tissue. Hopefully that meant he the internal bleeding had stopped as well. It would explain why his head didn't ache. Jim got to his feet and stretched. His muscles ached but he felt okay. He felt good.

His wrists and ankles - well, everywhere he had been bound was marked with a line of dark bruises, even his neck. Jim winced as he twisted his wrist experimentally.

There was a leather rucksack beside him which he opened. There were old pieces of Starfleet kit, an outdated tricorder, water purifiers and rations. Jim bit into one greedily and looked around him. He knew roughly what direction Spock had gone, but had no idea how long he had been unconscious with that white light. The light that had saved his light. A long time ago, Jim might have said it was a miracle of god. But he was long past believing in any god. His credits were on whatever the aliens had made him swallow - but what substance could simply heal someone back from the edge of death?

He started up the old tricorder and scanned himself just in case. He wasn't dying.

He was _alive_.

Jim grinned. He was fucking _alive_.

But why had the aliens saved him? Jim looked back at the dome again, curiosity thrumming in his veins. It would be so easy to go back in and ask all of these questions. But he couldn't.

He pulled the rucksack on his back and began to walk. He had to catch up to Spock, and who knew how quickly the damn vulcan could walk. Jim was going to see him again, he knew it. He could feel it with every beat of his heart.

The fog was only at his shins today, and from the pale light filtering through the trees, Jim guessed that it was early morning. The air was quite cool, and Jim set what he thought was a good, steady and brisk pace through the forest. He began to see signs of Spock just as it hit midday. There were small notches in the trees, a crudely drawn Starfleet insignia. Jim wondered if these had been to stop Spock from getting lost or so that he knew that Jim could find him. Oddly, he found himself hoping it was the latter.

After night fell and the fog thickened, Jim made a small camp. He pulled the knife from his boot and scratched a wonky looking _Enterprise_ under Spock's starfleet sign, just in case for some reason Spock came back and Jim missed him. Unlikely, but still possible.

He curled up amongst some overgrown bushes and closed his eyes. It was a relief to be able to sleep without worrying whether he would wake up again.

When he woke up, Jim was disorientated for a was dark and he was alone. It was deadly silent, as though the forest was holding its breath. Jim rolled onto his stomach and peered out of the bushes. He had to slap a hand over his mouth to stop himself from gasping.

Prowling in front of him was...well he didn't know what it was, only that it was _huge_, hairy and had monstrously big teeth, dripping with saliva. A growl rumbled through the expanse of its grey haired chest, nose dropping to the floor. There was nothing but the sound of snuffling for a moment. Another growl emanated from the creature and began to continue prowling, this time more purposefully.

Jim waited until the beast had passed before scrambling from his hiding place and running his hands over the ground it had been sniffing. Something soft was under his fingers, and he picked it up, looked at it uncomprehendingly.

It was a torn piece of a black environmental suit undershirt.

"_Fuck_."

The animal was hunting Spock.


End file.
